


Butterflies: better in the stomach than on the back.

by Chemical_Defect



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Feelings, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Tattoo, acknowledgment of feelings, silent declaration of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 11:06:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10096763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chemical_Defect/pseuds/Chemical_Defect
Summary: 'Why did you have to tell her that, John?' Sherlock hissed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bigblueboxat221b](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/gifts).



> I was bored at St Pancras, waiting for the train to take me away from London and asked for Johnlock prompts.  
> This is the result of one of them.   
> Thank you, bigblueboxat221b, for giving me that prompt. I hope you like the result.

 

‘Young man in his twenties. Was studying at university – unpopular subject. No, one that does not bring success immediately and easily. I’d say psychology, or something in that field. But he _was_ successful in his studies, he worked long hours on it. Presence of stimulants in his battered, used bag can attest to it. No books, no notes in the bag. Out for another reason than visit the library. Oh. Well-groomed, pressed-ironed shirt. Heavy amount of perfume and deodorant. Stressful first date, then. Wasn’t hardly his first fling though, there must have been something particular about this one to make him feel anxious.’

The police officers kept chatting, ignoring the information Sherlock was bringing on the victim’s profile. ‘He had a tattoo of a sunset behind a large butterfly and was in the process of having it removed. Judging from the fading of the ink, it’s obvious he had only gone through three sessions.’

Silence fell in the room. ‘How can you possibly know something like that, Freak?’ asked Sergeant Donovan, her usual snarky tone lacking bite as she was mostly surprised.

‘Been there, done that,’ replied John in an off-hand, casual manner, arms crossed lightly in front of his chest.

Heavy silence settled in the room as John uttered these four words. Across the room, Sherlock was throwing daggers at him but John looked calmly back.

‘Why did you have to tell her that, John?’ Sherlock hissed in his ear as he went into John’s private space.

‘She asked you a question. I figured that since I’m your _assistant_ , I should also answer questions for you,’ he replied curtly. Sherlock was speechless for a second. ‘Of course. But you don’t want me saying things about you, do you? You don’t want people to _talk_ ,’ he added snidely.

‘I distinctly remember you saying that you didn’t care what people thought. I don’t see how that little bit of information would have you so upset,’ he replied casually.

“Hang on. ‘Been there, done that?’ You mean Freak used to have a tattoo? I bet it was on his lower back.’ John quirked one eyebrow at Sherlock who pretended not to care for the provocation he had read in his features.

‘Guess why he’s always wearing long-sleeved shirts carefully tucked in his trousers.

‘Mr. Never-a-hair-out-of-place Poshboy was covered in tattoos. That’s even better! Why am I not surprised,’ she added, ‘we all know you’ve always had a thing for needles.’

‘Now Sally, there’s no need to – ‘intervened Lestrade, waving in her direction to qualify what she had just said. _Rubbish. Mean. Not worth being said again._ ‘Sherlock, thanks for giving us an insight to the poor kid’s personality. I think we can take it from here. I’m sure you’ve got more urgent things to deal with than that. Jealousy must have been the motive, I suppose. John? A word?’ John shrugged and followed Lestrade in an adjacent room. ‘The hell was that about? Listen,’ he continued without leaving John time to answer, ‘I can imagine how living with him can be challenging, but these kinds of comments are not helping the investigation. Keep them at home, would you?’

‘Not sure what you’re implying but sure, I’ll try. Can’t promise I’ll be able to hold them though. You know how infuriating he is.’

‘Thanks. I guess you’d better explain to his Lordship why you said that,’ Lestrade added, nodding in the direction of the sulking consulting detective.

‘Yeah. Probably should,’ John replied, leaving Lestrade to get to Sherlock’s side.

‘Sally!’ Lestrade called. She put her head up from her notebook. ‘Come over here, Sergeant.’ He had not been particularly discreet in calling her, but that was the point. A happy, not sulking Sherlock was much more helpful than a stubbornly sulking, pride-wounded one. He turned around to see if Sally was indeed coming but instead noticed a black cab pulling over, Sherlock and John all but jumping in it. He shrugged it off as them having important stuff to do.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock went directly to his bedroom when they arrived back at Baker Street and reappeared within seconds, clad in one of his expensive silky dressing gowns and settled behind the kitchen table, busying himself with his computer. ‘Tell me. What made you say it?’ he nonchalantly asked John.

‘Well. You’ve been a pain in the arse, for one.’

‘And you’ve decided to become one in mine.’

‘You usually don’t complain,’ John deadpanned.

‘No, I don’t.’ Sherlock let a stretch of silence come in between them. ‘I don’t see why you chose to share with others that I used to have tattoos. To _Sally Donovan_ , specifically.’

‘It’s just a matter of circumstances, Sherlock, don’t read into it. The guy had a tattoo, it was being removed. You had tattoos and had them removed…And you did say that you didn’t care what people thought. Just wanted to verify that information,’ he said as he put the kettle on.

‘Well now you have,’ Sherlock said drily, taking his phone to compose a text message.

‘Listen Sherlock. I didn’t think it would upset you that much – ‘

‘It doesn’t,’ Sherlock cut and returned his attention to his website.

‘Alright,’ replied John, not believing this for a second.

Sherlock’s phone chimed. John made a move to take it and read it out of habit but Sherlock snatched it before he could.

‘I have an appointment. Tomorrow morning,’ Sherlock provided, John’s question being evident despite his silence. ‘You don’t need to concern with that,’ he added when John almost formulated the question as to what kind of appointment Sherlock had.

‘Ok. I assume you don’t want me to come with you?’ he asked, taking the kettle as it almost boiled. He poured hot water over his teabag. He prepared another cup for Sherlock, with proper loose-leaf tea to keep himself occupied while he waited for Sherlock to answer. ‘I take it you’re sulking, then,’ he said when no reply came from Sherlock.

‘I’m not sulking,’ Sherlock muttered.

‘Then what?’

‘Reflecting,’ he answered.

‘Right. Right,’ he repeated as he walked to his armchair and settled in with a book. John had got used to Sherlock being moody. Despite that, he could not focus on the story he was reading. ‘Well, I’m off to work. See you tomorrow, then,’ he said after a while.

‘Hm,’ was Sherlock’s only answer.

‘Night shift. Agreed to take a colleague’s.’

‘Hm.’

‘Alright, you sod. See you.’


	3. Chapter 3

The flat was cold. Sherlock had not been in for quite some time. There was nothing to worry about, he had told him he had an appointment. He probably wanted to get ready for it, whatever kind of appointment it was. His absence was not an exceptional occurrence after all, and this time Sherlock had told him about it. Things were improving.

The light outside was slowly becoming darker. At what time could this appointment be? Sherlock had been gone all day and John had not received a single text from him. What kind of appointment could it be? Worry was starting to grow. ‘Well I guess I just have to wait for him to come back,’ he thought as he turned the lights on and went to the kitchen to cook a small dinner. He ate in silence. On his own.

‘Something’s off. Not heard a pip from Sherlock. He better be back home soon,’ he thought as he settled in his bed. As if on cue, there was the distinctive sound of Sherlock’s footsteps on the stairs. John let escape a sigh of relief and felt his worry disappear. He went back to the living room to find Sherlock draped in yet another dressing gown. A new one. ‘That appointment was just an excuse for you to go and have a bit of retail shopping then?’ he addressed to Sherlock’s back. He snorted.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, John. I don’t do shopping. Tedious,’ he replied. ‘People,’ he added.

‘What was that appointment, then? Took you long enough,’ John commented, attempting a casual tone.

‘Worried much, were you?’ countered Sherlock with a smirk. ‘Relax, John. It wasn’t dangerous. Would have insisted on you being there,’ he added with a smile.

‘Right. Of course you would have’, he answered without bite. _And I would have come with you_ , he added in the privacy of his thoughts. ‘Anything you want to share about it though?’ John could not prevent himself from asking. Sherlock picked his violin and started playing an airy melody. _That’s a no, then._ He sat in his armchair and listened to Sherlock playing.


	4. Chapter 4

‘Have you caught a cold or something?’ asked John the following morning.

‘Hm?’

‘You’re wearing more clothes than usual. I mean, that’s good, that’s better than…well, you being starkers or wearing only a sheet on your back. If you need a prescription, I can…’

‘Don’t be silly, John,’ Sherlock dismissed his friend’s concern with a wave of his hand. ‘It’ll pass, and there’s everything I need in Boots. No need for you to write me any sort of prescription,’ he said, absent-mindedly passing his fingers over his chest.

‘Alright. Pass me the toasts, would you?’

The day went on without much happening and to John’s extreme surprise, Sherlock did not complain much, nor did he seem particularly bored. He simply was, walking around in their flat, playing on his violin, spending time perusing books, running experiments. They had nothing on and Sherlock mostly kept silent. John took advantage of that quiet time to observe his friend. He seemed calmer than he usually was compared to other times when they had no case to work on, but his fingers kept going to brush at something under his shirt.

‘Ok, could you tell me – ‘

‘No. Not yet,’ Sherlock said before going to the bathroom. Uncharacteristically, he closed the door behind himself. _That’s weird. He seems fine, but…_

‘Sherlock, I can’t help wondering… What is that?’ he asked, pointing to a bandage on his chest.

‘Oh, that. My appointment. Nothing to worry about, John, I assure you.’

‘You keep saying that. Tell me what it is. Please,’ he insisted. Sherlock heaved a sigh.

‘A moment,’ he replied, retreating to his bedroom. He reappeared moments later in a dressing gown, apparently ready for bed.

‘Well?’

‘I’ve taken the dressing off. See for yourself,’ he said. John threw him a suspicious look.

‘Ok.’ He went over to his friend who stood absolutely still. John silently prayed to whatever deity that nothing was wrong with Sherlock. That bandage was above his heart. John parted the sides of his dressing gown to reveal Sherlock’s chest. No. There was nothing wrong with his friend.

‘Satisfied?’

‘Yes. Sorry.’

‘John?’

‘Hm?’

‘Would you turn the lights off, please?’ That wasn’t an ordinary request.

‘Sure…’ he replied, a feeling of unease constricting his own heart.

‘John?’

‘Yes, Sherlock?’

‘Turn around.’

The flat was in complete darkness, save from one tiny glowy thing near Sherlock’s…No, not _near_. _On_ Sherlock’s chest. John came closer to his friend and read three words on the skin above Sherlock’s heart. _Here. Use mine._

‘Sherlock, what is –? Oh. I –‘

‘Good night, John,' Sherlock said softly before retreating to his room.


	5. Chapter 5

A week later, John came back from work, took a shower and got ready. He was not about to make a big show out of it. He went back to the living room, asked Sherlock to look at him and turned the lights off.

Over John’s own heart, three words glowed.

_Afghanistan or Iraq?_


End file.
